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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25208005">Types of Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Alphabet/pseuds/Anonymous_Alphabet'>Anonymous_Alphabet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tron: Uprising</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU: Occasionally disregarding certain events, Beck becomes a philosopher for like three seconds, Different Types of Love, Family Dynamic, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Major Character Injury, Parental Dynamic, just for the sake of being able to write this without canon events interfering.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:54:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25208005</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Alphabet/pseuds/Anonymous_Alphabet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The different Greek words for love compiled into different chapters</p><p>(I am leaving out one or two of them because I didn’t want to write them or I couldn’t find a way to include them)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beck &amp; Mara &amp; Zed (Tron), Beck &amp; Tron (Tron), Beck (Tron)/Paige (Tron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Storge: Unconditional Family Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Apologies if I mixed up the meanings of the words, I was relying on on or two websites for the info!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Raw agony rips through his code, the grating feeling scrapes through his mind with such ferocity he almost shuts down. But Beck keeps moving, his actions lagging and bordering clumsy. The Occupation program in front of him lunges again, a flash of orange is the only warning that Beck gets before a disk is slashing the air right in front of his face. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Beck’s mind is clouded, exhaustion thudding heavily through him. The only thing that breaks the pattern are the lances of pain everytime Beck moves his shoulder. The clinking sound of falling voxels seems distant as do the thuds of colliding disks and fists. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Dodge. Duck. Swipe. Repeat. Repeat. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>His disk swings through empty air and he stumbles forwards. The Occupation program is crumpled in an unconscious heap at Beck’s feet. Breath pushes to crawl out of his ragged chest, stuttering from time to time. A low buzz in Beck’s ears disappears, his adrenaline fading. He almost buckles underneath the acute pain, reminding Beck of his injured shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The program glances at the injury, wincing. The gash is about an inch-and-a-half deep, spanning from the top of his left shoulder blade to his armpit. Beck gives his head a vigorous shake, trying to clear a woozy feeling creeping through his mind. Besides the main injury, his body aches due to many jabs and punches that pummeled his body in the result of a four-on-one. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>This mission did not go as planned. Beck has done these jobs many times, scouting for Tron is a normal chore in the life of The Renegade. He almost forgets how the fighting started. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck had gotten very curious about a meeting held in an outpost stationed at the outskirts of Argon. The meeting discussed moving troops through the city, usual stuff, nothing important. The trouble started when Beck tried to sneak away. A guard had caught him and fighting ensued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head pounds, the remnants of battle trapped inside. Beck knows he must get back to Tron, his mentor would be expecting a full report.  A sudden image of Tron’s disappointed face floats through Beck’s mind and his steps falter. Tron wouldn’t be happy with what had happened, this was supposed to be a clean mission, in and out.  Beck glances at his shoulder, the injury is glaringly obvious pulsing with a faint light. An involuntary shudder runs through Beck as he continues staring at the gash. It is too noticeable, too painful, too </span>
  <em>
    <span>clumsy</span>
  </em>
  <span> looking. He’ll have to hide it, he’ll find a way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoulders roll back in an attempt to fix his posture which sends a fresh wave of agony cascading through him. Tremors emit from his left arm, the receptors a bundled mess. Beck sneaks quickly through the base, pausing occasionally when the ache becomes too much. Beck’s mind starts clouding in protest with his strenuous pace, sometimes sending angry jabs of pain through his code. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time slows to a crawl before Beck is finally free of the outpost, looking at the vast expanse of wasteland surrounding Argon. Beck takes out his lightcycle baton, his shaking hand making it exceedingly difficult to activate the vehicle. Revving the engine once or twice, Beck speeds off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grey, grey, more grey. The monotonous scenery makes it harder for Beck to focus. He feels light-headed, and his sight is perceiving things slightly off. Beck gives his head a firm shake that does next to nothing to improve his condition. The issue of hiding his wound is pushed far into the recesses of Beck’s mind, the only thought he has is to get back to Tron (without blacking out preferably). Beck tenses his arms in an attempt to keep the lightbike going straight, trying to ignore the constant ache in his left arm. The angular mountain which hosts Tron’s base is a beacon of hope for Beck, a safe haven. It crawls closer and closer, finally coming into detail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dismounting his lightcycle, Beck knows it’s going to be a challenge deceiving Tron. His head is heavy and he sometimes catches it rolling towards his chest on its own accord. Beck’s steps are lagged with fatigue, his legs don’t always go exactly where he tries to place them. His code begs for rest and recharge but Beck starves his body of the need. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck imagines wrapping his mind in strong bars of iron-strong code, he will find Tron and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>pretend like nothing was wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thing that bothers Beck the most is the strange...</span>
  <em>
    <span>off </span>
  </em>
  <span>feeling suffocating him. His footsteps sound echoey and heavy. The bright lights are harsher than usual, jabbing at Beck’s eyes with ferocity. Beck is so busy trying to avoid looking at the lights that he almost forgets about Tron. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps emit from the hallway, coming towards the young program. Beck frantically thinks of how to hide the mark of his failure, turning sideways so his non-injured shoulder will face Tron. He also presses his back against the wall, hoping to pull off what would seem as a nonchalant wall-stance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tron appears from around the corner, nodding when he sees Beck. As usual, he assesses Beck’s condition in which the young program tries to seem as normal as possible. If Tron sees something off, he will probably scan Beck for injuries, revealing everything.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck tries to wrestle his thready breathing into a normal pattern, hoping Tron doesn’t hear the desperate intake for air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re back,” Tron states matter-of-factly, eyes narrowing slightly. The slight action gives Beck a jolt of panic, his eyes tightening slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, the mission went well, no problems.” His voice sounds fake, even to his own ears. “Nothing to report, just some troop movements in Argon.” Beck adds quickly to speed up the conversation. Maybe Tron will dismiss him and Beck could go take care of his wound privately. Silence creeps in, Beck waits from Tron to say something, to stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>staring </span>
  </em>
  <span>at him. A panicked breath hitches in Beck’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I should probably get-“ Beck falters for less than a nanocyc, but it’s enough for Tron. “Back to the garage. I have work to do.” His voice deteriorates into a mumble, Tron knows. Pressure pushes in on Beck’s consciousness, threatening to snatch it away. The Renegade stumbles, dropping to one knee. Tron is but Beck’s side in an instant, supporting Beck’s healthy arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get you to a chair.” Tron says gruffly, leading Beck into the main room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry Tron,” Beck says quickly, desperate to explain himself, “I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been. I got ganged up on by a group of soldiers. I tried-“ He breaks off, muffling a wince.  The comfort of being placed down onto a chair almost dulls the pain. Something nags at Beck’s code, desperately trying to drag him down to recharge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beck,” Tron sighs, making an aggravated sound when he sees Beck’s injury “it’s fine to make mistakes.” Beck falters, not expecting that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I messed up, I could’ve been captured, the rebellion could’ve fallen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The rebellion isn’t that fragile, Beck.” Tron says softly, examining his apprentice’s wound. Tron leaves momentarily, coming back with a medical kit. The older program takes out several tools and begins to work on the wound. Beck winces, equal part of pain and disappointment in himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should be better, programs are still relying on me.” Beck says bitterly, pushing back tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You tried your best, and that’s all you have to do. That’s enough for me and it’s enough for Argon.” Tron sighs, taking a step back to look Beck in the eye. “Don't push yourself too hard, you can’t help the rebellion if you’re derezzed.” Beck nods slowly, slight relief at the lack of Tron’s disappointment soothing his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s as much as I can do for this now. It’ll have to heal on its own.” The older program states, helping Beck to his feet. Tron looks fondly at Beck, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Rest for now Renegade, Argon can wait.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Philia: Authentic Friendship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Concern is becoming an annoyingly common expression for Beck’s friends to wear. It’s not that he was bothered by Mara and Zed,  they just unintentionally made things a lot more difficult. Warding off their questions while simultaneously trying to maintain their close friendship made things strained and is a new spot of anxiety for Beck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His attendance at Able’s garage is  spotty at best and the family-like dynamic they used to hold dear has dimmed considerably.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck sighs, looking out at the sprawling expanse of Argon city. He shakes out his hands, aching slightly from the climb up onto the tall building he now sits on. It only takes him a moment to pinpoint the extensive garage perched at the edge of the city. Beck’s hand ruffles his helmet hair, giving a valiant effort to tame the disarrayed mess dominating his head. Of course, he’s unsuccessful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The city spread below Beck hums with life, however if any program looks closer they can feel the discord and anger pulsing through the very code of the city. Tesler’s ship can be seen at the edge of the city, looming over the buildings. It’s constant presence is a harsh reminder of who holds power over the programs of Argon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A glimpse of light blue is the only warning Beck gets as a wild bit screeches past him, its form in an idle shape. Adrenaline floods through Beck, forcing him into standing up and dropping a fighting stance. The bit flies away just as fast as it came, diving out of sight. Beck tries to relax, breathing heavily. Only then does he realize that he had drawn his disk. “Glitch it,” he swears shakily, placing his disk back into its dock. His now instinctual response scares him more than it should. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to accidentally derez a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Guilt floods his chest, weighing Beck down. He doesn’t want to be someone who flinches at every movement, he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt a program. The risk of doing so has risen exponentially since the time when he was just a mechanic. Beck sits down again, stabilizing himself by grabbing the ledge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In. Out. Breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chant repeats through Beck’s mind, calming him down while simultaneously pushing away unwanted thoughts. I’ve calmed down enough, Beck thinks before clambering down the building again. Beck activates his lightcycle, finding himself instinctively heading to the garage. The drive over is blissfully long, giving Beck plenty of time to compose himself and mentally prepare for merging back into his old life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Able’s garage is bustling with movement which brings a sense of normality to Beck. That feeling is quickly washed away once Beck steps into the garage, instantly bombarded by the loud noises and crowded floor-space. A mechanic shoots a quick glare at Beck, who hadn’t been at the garage for cycles. Other programs look surprised to see Beck, a few don’t even notice. It’s what he expects at this point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Throughout the day Beck is doing missions for Tron. Occasionally he will stop by the garage, frantically trying to catch up on his work. But most of his time is spent with his mentor or walking around Argon (and sometimes Purgos). In fact, Beck has often recharged at Tron’s base instead of the garage, making his colleagues even more suspicious of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beck!” Mara rushes up to him, Zed close behind. “Long time no see.” Mara shouts happily, pulling Beck into a hug. If she notices him flinching, she doesn’t comment on it. Zed catches up with Mara, giving Beck a wary smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck ducks out of the hug, plastering a grin on his face. “Yeah, it’s been a while.” A quick silence falls onto the trio, highlighting the unanswered question; Where have you been?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, have you come to finally catch up on your work?” Zed asks, hiding a note of skepticism. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck jumps on the easy lie, “yeah I was thinking I could finish up some stuff before-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before you leave again?” Zed interrupts, earning a jab in the ribs from Mara. Beck ignores Zed’s question, desperately trying to bring back the camaraderie they used to have so easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what have you guys been up to?” Beck inquires casually, looking around the garage. “It’s definitely busy around here.” Sure enough almost every single program is hard at work, tinkering at one vehicle or another. A cluster of mechanics stand around a glitched tank, arguing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How am </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>supposed to know how to fix this? I’ve never worked on a tank before.” One of them growls, gesturing wildly at the vehicle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh glitch it, I don’t even know if we can fix this. It’s messed up by some sort of code.” They argue more, which makes Beck feel guilty because he probably is the cause of the damage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“- and then a couple cycs ago they came back </span>
  <em>
    <span>again </span>
  </em>
  <span>to drop off more lightbikes! They really can’t stop breaking things.” Zed says loudly, shaking Beck from his observation. He feels guilty, knowing he missed most, if not all of Zed’s answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that sounds pretty bad.” He says, hoping that is the correct response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’d really help to have some more hands working over here.” Zed emphasizes, crossing his arms. Again, Beck ignores the subtle (well, not very subtle) jab at his absence. Another awkward silence falls over the programs, leaving them scuffing their feet against the ground and avoiding each other’s glances. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should go on a walk. I’m sure Able wouldn’t mind if we left for a little.” Mara suggests, already walking towards the exit. Zed shrugs in acceptance, following with Beck.  The trio wanders the streets of Argon, finally stopping at a club to get a drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly things would probably be calmer at the garage if that Renegade stopped messing around.” Zed says, aggravated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zed! We agreed no more Renegade talk.” Mara sighs, shooting Beck an apologetic look. Beck wonders if Mara and Zed made that agreement because they got annoyed of arguing about it, or if it was because they didn’t want to scare him off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zed rolls his eyes but compiles, immediately switching to another (albeit less preferred) conversation. “So, where’ve you been lately?” Zed asks Beck, keeping his tone light. This question isn’t something that Beck can avoid this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh just wandering around mostly. I run some errands for Able a lot, he thinks that it’d be nice to keep me out of the garage while I’m still feeling...overwhelmed by Bodhi’s death.” Beck lies, hoping that Able said a similar thing when Mara and Zed undoubtedly asked him where he had been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So same old thing as last time?” Zed presses, sipping at his drink. Beck nods curtly, frowning. This is not how he had wanted this hangout to go. Everytime Zed manages to trap him in a corner of questions and since Mara is also curious she does nothing to stop him. Time that Beck could be using to relax is filled with more paranoia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zed sighs, shaking his head, probably not buying Beck’s lies anymore. A third silence sweeps in. Yeah, definitely not how Beck wanted this to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beck, we’re worried about you.” Mara says suddenly, opening </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>discussion. It prompts him to go on the defensive, crossing his arms and leaning backwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, why would you worry about me?” Beck says, noticing his voice pitches up an octave. Mara and Zed share a glance, making Beck feel even more excluded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve been noticing-“ Mara looks desperately at Zed for backup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re different. You’ve been acting weird,” Zed says, mimicking Beck’s pose. Inwardly, Beck sighs. He’s well aware what his friends had meant previously, but trying to act ignorant is the only defense mechanism he can think of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I have been acting weird. I’ve just-I’ve just been doing more work out of the garage.” Beck shrugs, avoiding Zed and Mara’s gazes. “And trying to deal with Brodhi’s death” he mumbles that part, eyes flicking around the club. Zed sighs exasperatedly, planting his hands on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can tell us anything Beck.” Mara says softly, it’s a stark contrast from Zed’s “tough love”. If anything it makes Beck more uncomfortable, he doesn’t deserve the acceptance for lying to his friends. He feels like a frightened bit, and he hates it. What he has become, it’s different for sure. Mostly the change has improved Beck, but in these situations it breaks him down. Turns him weak. Hurts him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Beck stresses, “I haven’t changed much. Just adapted to what’s happening.” False. All lies. He’s changed and he knows it. He’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span> and they know it. The second concerned, shared glance between Mara and Zed makes him want to scream. “I don’t want to have this conversation anymore.” He mutters, glaring at his cup. His attitude is an obvious indicator to his current state of mind, but Beck doesn’t care. He’s done with the faking, the lying the pretending. He’s so close to telling them everything. It takes all of his willpower to stay silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lying to his family. That’s what he’s doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Mara says softly, eyes downcast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get back to the garage.” Zed suggests slowly, seeming discouraged. Beck nods, exhaustion creeping through his code. The group stands up, walking back to Able’s Garage. Mara and Zed make polite chatter on the way back. Beck appreciates the opportunity to slip into the background, listening to them talk. It’s the most relaxing thing he’s experienced in a while, watching the two banter (or in the words of some other programs, flirt) with each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sounds of the garage increase in volume and nearness, suddenly appearing around the corner of a building. “Back to work.” Zed sighs, exaggerating a slouched posture to show his reluctance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to stay or-?” Mara says in a way which almost puts Beck on edge due to how coddling it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, maybe, I’m not sure yet.” Beck replies, eyes flicking quickly to the ground for a second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well we hope you’ll stay, we really miss you Beck.” Mara says firmly, pulling Beck into a hug. “You’re part of this family, the garage. You belong here.” She presses, pulling away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if you don’t do your work, like, half of the time, you’re our friend.” Zed says, quickly hugging Beck too. A smile tugs on Beck’s lips, a rare thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” He says hoarsely, his smile widening slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what family is for.” Mara grins, leading the group into the building.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry if there are grammar mistakes, I kinda gave up on editing haha</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Ágape: Universal, empathetic love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don’t really know where I was going with this so it got a tad rambly but have fun!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Spotted, whoops</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Beck thinks, pivoting on his heel and barreling down the nearest alleyway. The Occupation guard does his best to give chase, sprinting after the Renegade in its bulky, hard-edged armor. Programs leap out of the way as the guard gives chase, his yelling for reinforcements muffled due to his helmet. Beck knows he only has nanocycles to escape before Lieutenant Paige or Pavel fly in with legions of Occupation soldiers; Beck’s getting better, harder to catch, and they know that. At this point, Tesler will do whatever it takes to wrestle Beck, well, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Renegade</span>
  </em>
  <span>, into submission. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other hand, it pleases Beck. It shows his progress nicely. He’s spotted less which leads to fighting less; but even then, he’s gotten better at fighting as well. If Beck asks Tron, the mentor would probably say that all this fulfillment has led to Beck’s ego increasing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plus, Beck pretty much knows Argon’s streets as well as the back of his own hand-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He runs into a dead end. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Glitch it,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The guard chasing him skids to a stop in order to not run into Beck. “Stop Renegade, you’ve been apprehended.” A pretty pretentious and cliche thing to say if Beck says so himself. “Surrender your disk.” The guard’s voice is rough and gravely, as always. It is strange, the same voice for every guard. Beck sometimes wonders why that is, Tron hasn’t said anything about it yet so it’s probably not of importance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck raises his arms mockingly, “I’ll admit, you’ve got me.” Beck says jovially, already calculating the best escape route. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hand over your disk.” The deep, ticking voice of the guard snaps, staff poised to strike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Beck says, walking over slowly; he deliberately plans all of his steps coming close but not too close to the Occupation soldier. He reaches back for his disk causing the other program to tense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drawing the disk, it emits a slight click when it leaves the dock; snapping a piece of his identity away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand near the guard’s which is now outstretched, though the program is still on high alert. Their hands inch closer...closer-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck flips backwards, the sudden movement causing the soldier to jab his stick in Beck’s direction. Beck barely avoids the jabbing staff, immediately switching to the offensive as the program’s train of thought catches up with the situation. “Sorry about this!” Beck yells through his helmet before slamming a vicious round kick into the soldier’s side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stumbling, the guard tries to recover his footing, dropping the staff in shock. Beck makes sure to kick the weapon to the other side of the alley, the blocky stick clattering into a wall. Beck easily dodges the first desperate swing of the Occupation guard, deflecting his disk with ease. “Don’t you know it’s rude to derez programs?” The Renegade quips, disarming the soldier with a few moves. The program shuffles backwards, running into a wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier flinches as Beck nears, causing Beck to falter. There's a clash of thoughts in his mind, causing Beck to cringe. Usually Beck doesn’t concentrate on Occupation programs as he fights them; the flinch unnerves him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck reluctantly re-docks his disk. He can already hear Tron yelling at him; </span>
  <em>
    <span>are you glitched? You know how dangerous that is, what the consequences could’ve been? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Either that or Tron will be busy shouting at Beck’s scattered voxels. Beck tries not to think about that last scenario, avoiding being derezzed is priority number one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not doing to-you’re not derezzing me?” The grainy voice breaks through the air, unsure and nervous. The amount of emotion that the soldier almost surprises Beck. These Occupation soldiers are...programs. All of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck doesn’t respond to the question, turning heel and sprinting out of the alleyway. He makes sure to cover his tracks thoroughly, the last thing he wants is to face more nameless Occupation soldiers. As if on cue, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>thuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>-ing sounds of a light copter whirling through the sky sounds several blocks away. He’d gotten out just in time, he just hopes that if Paige was the one sent in she doesn’t get in trouble for not finding anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lightsuit switches colors as Beck removes the code on his disk. No program notices as he integrates into the crowd, working his way towards his favorite thinking spot. The streets sound busy, but there’s an underlying note of tension; Programs walking faster when they pass Occupation sentries, glares at propaganda posters, or clusters of programs  beginning to argue over the government before instantly falling silent once they realize what they’re saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tall building comes into Beck’s view, jet black accented with blue-toned white lights. His thinking spot, a strange sense of peace washes through Beck as he jogs to the back, climbing up the side and perching on the flat top. He doesn’t know the purpose of the building, it sits on the edge of Argon, climbing high above the other buildings in the area. This offers a perfect view of the city, the neat, grid patterned layout of Argon is accentuated with multicolored lights. The orderly placement of buildings shatters into the tangled mess of Purgos, which streets are dark compared to Argon’s. It still amazes Beck how Tesler and the Occupation hasn’t thoroughly conquered Purgos yet, it’s labyrinth streets untamed.  The black thought that the reason Purgos is still there might be because Tesler uses some of its resources sours his pride at the underground city's resilience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thoughts about the soldier flip back into Beck’s mind. Beck didn’t derez the guard, but would he have derezzed Beck? He doesn’t know what to do with that question so he lets it drop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns his thoughts back to the Grid. The programs. Beck’s lips upturn into a small smile, gazing over the city. Somewhere down there his friends were probably working on some new order; Beck frowns realizing that in his free time he should be helping at the garage instead of reminiscing about the Grid. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Glitch it, they probably don’t even notice I’m gone anymore. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>If anything, Beck sees himself as more of the Grid’s now. Before he became the Renegade, he saw life in a different way, a simpler way albeit. Beck was himself, Beck, the mechanic. There were other programs, some were friends, other enemies. Then there were the ones that old Beck never talked to. Now he feels connected to everything. He loves the Grid; though there are definitely some flaws, none of those are the Grid’s “fault” per se. For the most part, he, in lack of a better word, loves the programs too; besides the ones that try to kill him or his friends. His home is so full of life, flaws, weaknesses, strengths. All of the above. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course the Grid is filled with danger, and evil. Chaos and forced order, sometimes it is terrible, the programs. The ISOs practically gone due to programs’ hate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At least there are still the bits </span>
  </em>
  <span>Beck thinks wryly, laughing to himself. But even through all of the horrors, he loves the Grid. Maybe it is a hopeless love, a desperate attempt to believe in something but something deep inside of Beck knows it’s not. He knows the Grid like a second heart telling him not to give up, encouraging his acts to liberate the people in it, to avenge its lost children. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck smiles.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Ludus: Playful Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Able’s garage is alive, that’s the best way Beck can describe it. It’s more than the programs that work there or the sounds of jobs being done, there’s a personality (even a conscious) to the shop; at least, that’s what Beck thinks. He misses the atmosphere and familiarity of the place. Beck hasn’t been in the garage for a long time, Renegade work has kept him busy. But Beck can’t complain, Tron knows it’s the only way to keep a one-man revolution in Argon running; well, until the whole rebellion idea starts catching on to the programs living in the city too. In fact, that stage of the rebellion has already begun, Mara and her friends are a sure sign of that. If only Moog and Rasket hadn’t given up, they could’ve inspired so many programs to stand for what is right. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Whum whum whum</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Recognizer. Beck sighs, unable to stop the shot of adrenaline zipping through his veins. The sound is familiar to all programs at the garage, especially to Beck. This is what makes so many mechanics curse the Renegade’s name; the unending stream of Occupation tanks, cycles, and jets needing to be repaired due to Beck’s previous damage. “Not again,” Link sighs from his position of vacuuming up discarded voxels. The others quickly catch on, adding some finishing touches on their projects, running around frantically and (for some) ditching the garage to avoid whatever drama was about to occur. The Recognizer swoops into view, alighting right outside of the garage; an obscene amount of Occupation guards streaming out of the opening hatches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes firmly locked on the lightcycle he’s fixing, Beck hunches his shoulders. The likelihood of being recognized as the Renegade is minimal, but there’s always a chance (especially with the frequency the Occupation has been seeing Beck lately). Beck strains to hear Pavel’s oily voice roll over from the Recognizer’s direction but it never comes. Instead a sharp female voice sounds; Paige. Beck fights the urge to turn around and look at Paige, but after their “date”... well he doesn’t think that would be the best idea. Why isn’t Pavel here? He’s usually the one to show up and order them around, threatening to send programs to the games whatnot. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He must be busy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Beck concludes and begins stalling with the bike he’s working on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tesler wants all these lightjets restored in the next two cycles. If you have a problem with that, blame the Renegade” She says sharply, provoking some murmurs of complaint from the mechanics. Paige’s voice can be heard clearly through the garage and it’s strange for Beck to know she was a medic cycles ago. Such a thorough transformation is rare in programs, it goes against their programming, their assigned duties. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You managed it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Beck reminds himself. It also gives him hope, if she changed once, she can change again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The programs of Able’s garage start dispersing to complete the new task; they’ve gotten pretty good at working together and finishing all the projects in a timely manner. Paige turns around, walking back towards the Recognizer. Beck finds himself standing, forcing himself to jog over to Paige. She turns at his footsteps, surprise shown with the lift of her eyebrow. “You again.” A note of surprise enters the comment. And, Beck is unsure but, is there a hint of discomfort or awkwardness as well?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep, me...again. It’s been a while.” No it hasn’t. If memory serves him correctly, they got in a skirmish three cycles ago. Of course Beck had been the Renegade at that time, and Paige had been an Occupation officer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paige tilts her chin up slightly, “What do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck tries not to take the curt comment personally, giving an off-handed shrug. “It was fun to hang out, and I know you said you couldn’t anymore but-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a duty to the programs of Argon and I got distracted.” Paige says adamantly, turning around and continuing to walk to the Recognizer. “It was fun, though it would’ve been better if I wasn’t arrested in the middle of it.” Beck watches her walk away, brow furrowed. He knows she can be redeemed, brought to the right side. She said it herself, she has a duty to the programs of Argon; what’s a better way to fulfil that duty than freeing them from Clu’s oppression?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that about?” Zed’s question comes from behind Beck as Zed pulls up by his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just asking a question about the lightjets, that’s all.” Beck fends off Zed’s curiosity. “Where’s Mara?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh you know; oh wait- you wouldn’t because you’re never here.” Zed jabs. In all honesty Beck is getting tired of Zed’s animosity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haha, very funny. No really where is she?” Beck asks, twirling his wrench around his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think she’s taking a break, she said she’d be back soon. Look at you both trying to abandon me.” Zed crosses his arms, casting a meaningful look at the lightbike baton clenched in Beck’s fist; Beck didn’t even know he’d gotten that out. Beck plays off Zed’s comment with a chuckle, stowing away his baton and walking back towards the garage. Sitting in the garage was driving Beck insane, Tron is probably waiting for him but a stubborn friend is keeping him hostage. They made small talk, mostly complaining about the long list of orders from the Occupation, which gives Zed a perfect opportunity to bash the Renegade. “He’s just making things worse for the little guys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you hate the Renegade so much? He’s doing this for all of us.” At first Beck didn’t exactly know how to defend his own alter ego in the third person, but at this point he’s gotten the hang of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on, think about Bodhi. Do you think that the Renegade would care if programs like him got derezzed?” Beck stiffens. Is that really what Zed thinks of the Renegade (and in extent, Beck)? He crosses his arms, trying to keep a steely glare off of his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He cares.” Beck bites out before walking away, activating his lightcycle and zooming out of the garage. Out of his peripheral vision he sees Zed throw his hands up in defeat before he shrinks away in the distance. How could Zed say that? Beck thought that the Renegade’s methods, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> methods, were clear and obvious. Save Argon and the Grid from Clu’s tyranny, it isn’t that hard to root for the program trying to end all of the madness the Occupation has put in place. He sighs, Beck just needs someone on his side, well, more people on his side. Tron and Able were helpful, but he needs people on his side. Mara’s a good start, but putting herself in danger to further the cause worries Beck; though that’s precisely what he’s doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s far from Able’s garage by the time he deactivates his lightcycle, in fact he finds himself just outside of the club he and Paige had hung out at. With a resigned sigh, Beck enters the building; soft music plays in the background, framing the ambience of the room. Only a few programs populate the tables, chatting amongst themselves. Beck sits down on a couch, the low lighting forcing a tired feeling into him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey program,” A familiar voice sounds above Beck. Paige. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” Beck asks, standing up to greet her. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands; he just hopes that they don’t look awkward dangling by his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs, looking away. “I had some free time, so I came here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the top of the bridge?” Beck jokes, deciding to fold his arms. The loud noises of the club smother Paige’s faint chuckle. “Then while you’re here would you like to play a round?” He asks, praying he doesn’t sound too hopeful, gesturing to one of the tables. Paige frowns for a moment, indecision clouding her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw come on, one game. You said you had free time.” Bargaining has never been one of Beck’s strong suits, so he hopes that it works. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, one game.” Paige concedes, crossing the room to an empty table in the corner. She goes first, successfully scoring a point. “So, you work at Able’s garage?” Beck nods, focusing on his move. Recently, working at the garage sometimes felt like a cover story instead of his actual life and job. Paige narrows her eyes slightly at the dismissal of the question, quickly shrugging off the slight feeling of suspicion. Why should he have to want to talk about his job? Still, a nagging feeling stayed in the corner of her mind; her instincts telling her something is off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They proceed in awkward silence, Paige pulling ahead point-wise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, how’s your work?” Beck asks without thinking. Paige gives a noticeable pause, it is an interesting question to ask her; how her job was going. Beck notices her hesitation, “you don’t have to answer.” He adds quickly, missing an easy shot in his distraction. Paige doesn’t answer, which adds to the awkward air surrounding the two programs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s stressful.” Paige finally confesses, refusing to meet Beck’s eyes. “There’s always something to do, things to improve, a Renegade to catch.” Beck winces at the last one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds annoying.” Beck supplies lightly, finishing the game with a final point. He hopes she’ll drop the topic of the Renegade, she does,  “Well, game’s over.” Beck sighs slightly, wishing he had convinced her to play more. It feels wrong to leave off on an awkward note. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was really nice seeing you.” Beck blurts as Paige turns to leave. A small smile twitches at Paige’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Likewise,” She walks out of the club, Beck losing sight of her as she turns a corner. He should’ve said more, talked about the Renegade; he knows he can switch her to his side. Beck just needs more time. It’s not only because she’d be a valuable asset, but she’d provide company; maybe even comfort. In the rebellion he’s lonely, cut off from everyone he was friends with. His only true companion is now Tron (and to be fair he isn’t the friendliest of mentors). </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If only, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Beck thinks, staring at the last place he saw Paige.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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